Eternally Messy
by The rational kiwi
Summary: Poseidon should've gone back to his immortal family as soon as she told him she was pregnant, but Sally certainly wasn't going to kick him out. Of course, a relationship with a God is far from easy, especially with a half-human child to bring up and fundamentally different opinions on what it means to be a parent. Yet they try. Series of one-shots.
1. Chapter 1

Hi! I've decided to try my hand at another fanfic, even though I should really be working on my HP/PJO crossover. This one is a bit different. It will be a series of one-shots, all concerning Sally, Poseidon, Percy and family life, one way or another. I don't know where it came from: I was just curious to see what would've happened had Poseidon made a different, riskier, choice. The one-shots probably won't be posted in chronological order.

Let me know what you think if you have the time!

 **Disclaimer:** As always, I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to Rick Riordan. The profile picture is not mine either, but I wasn't able to contact the artist. If someone knows them, please let me know. I'd be happy to credit them.

/

 _Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we're related for better or for worse...and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum." Hermes, Sea of Monsters – R. Riordan_

/

/

Poseidon had told her he was going to leave one day soon.

It had been not long after they had met and it hadn't come as a surprise to Sally. It didn't take a genius to understand that a long term relationship between a human and a God was impossible at best and folly at worst.

She had been prepared for those words, she had _expected_ them, and though they had hurt, she had resolved not to let them control the course of what could possibly be the best relationship of her life.

She had never thought, though, that the time to let him go would come so soon; she especially had never thought that she wouldn't be the only one left behind.

"My presence would only serve to put you in danger," he said, voice soft, "the _both_ of you."

She instinctively caressed her belly. It was still flat, no sign of the future life hidden beneath her skin. "I know," she said.

He wouldn't look at her. "If I could stay – If things were different –"

"But they're not," she interrupted forcefully. She grabbed his chin lightly, forcing him to lift his gaze. "I understand. I do, really. I knew this was going to happen."

Poseidon exhaled loudly. "It won't be sudden. I can stay a bit longer."

Sally stroked her belly again and this time a larger, tanner hand joined hers.

How much longer was a 'bit longer'? She had been naive to believe their separation would be painless, even without taking the baby into consideration. How could it be? She was _in love_ with him, she _loved_ him, and though she knew logically that it would never work out between them, that he already had an immortal wife and immortal children and a realm to lead, her heart couldn't stop longing for a life together.

"Sally..." he trailed a hand along her jaw, "say something. Please."

She wondered distantly how many mortals had found themselves in the uncanny position of hearing a God say 'please'.

She turned her head into the caress and kissed his palm. She smiled. "A little bit longer sounds perfect."

It would be enough. It _had_ to be enough.

/

In the end, it doesn't matter. Poseidon never leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN** : here it is the second chapter! Thank you to everyone who has favourited or followed this story. I hope you'll like this chapter too! Let me know what you think.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. It all belongs to Rick Riordan.

 **2 - Birth**

Sally is only nineteen when Percy is born. Poseidon _looks_ nineteen.

She suspects they don't inspire that much trust in the nurses and doctors taking care of her and the baby. They are seemingly both young, without a family to help them (murdering siblings don't make the cut for helpful relatives) and jobless if one doesn't consider Sally's part time occupation at a small diner – and, really, she doesn't make enough for it to be considered.

If Poseidon wasn't an immortal god in disguise, she'd doubt their chances at being good parents too.

Luckily, she knows better.

Throughout her pregnancy, her doctor made it a point of reminding her that she had other options: abortion at first and adoption as the months progressed.

She turned him down at every turn with a smile on her face. It became more and more bitter as time went by and the doctor still insisted that she and her boyfriend could not possibly be ready for the demands of parenthood.

Now that Percy is finally here, a part of her wonders if perhaps he was right.

She hasn't had a family in a long time. She barely remembers her parents' faces; how they were with her and the things they did together are nothing more than a distant memory.

Poseidon's presence should make her feel more secure: he is thousands of years old and though she doesn't like to think about it too much, he has had more than his fair share of children. And yet, looking at him staring at Percy in wonder, she realises that he is as new to this as she is. She knows for a fact that he never had the opportunity – or perhaps the interest – to be there for his demigod sons and daughters while they were growing up, but now she wonders exactly what role he had in his immortal children's upbringing.

He is holding Percy as if afraid of breaking him and maybe that's not out of the realm of possibility for someone as strong as Poseidon.

Percy is small enough to fit in one of his hands. He is still red and wrinkly and he hasn't stopped crying once, as if being born is a hassle he would've liked to avoid, but Sally still thinks he's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

His head is already full of dark curls and his eyes are just as green as his father's. More than one nurse has stopped by to coo over him and none has failed to be awed by the vivid colour of his irises.

When at last they are alone, Sally slips out of bed, ignoring the doctors' warning to stay put for at least a few hours, and tiptoes to Poseidon's side.

Percy is falling asleep. His screams have turned into pitiful whines; his eyes are half-closed and his tiny fists are waving sluggishly at Poseidon's face.

He grabs one of them gently and kisses it.

"Everything's going to be okay," he whispers and it sounds like a promise.

Sally swallows around the lump in her throat. She knows what Poseidon is thinking about: the one thing they have avoided discussing all throughout her pregnancy.

"We should put him in his crib," she says.

Poseidon shakes his head. "Not tonight." He tucks Percy's small feet under the soft blue blanket the hospital has provided them with. "I want to keep him close."

Sally doesn't say anything to that. She understands how he feels.

She sits down next to him and lays her head on his shoulder. They don't say anything; they just stare at their sleeping son in silence until Sally too falls victim to Morpheus' spell.

Her last waking thought is a prayer that they be allowed to protect him from the cruel life of a demigod for as long as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Well, it took me a while, but here I am. This chapter is definitely longer than the previous, mostly because the characters got away from me. I hope you like it and that you'll let me know what you think!

As always, **thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story**. You have no idea how happy you make me.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing you recognize. All things Percy Jackson belong to Rick Riordan. _The Mists of Avalon_ belong to Marion Zimmer Bradley.

/

 **Nine Months**

The first month of her pregnancy goes by with her friends and colleagues none the wiser.

She takes on more shifts at the diner, but the other waiters don't wonder why. It is not a secret her economic situation leaves much to be desired and everyone knows she doesn't have a family to help her.

Her meagre paycheck is barely enough to feed her some months, anyway.

Noemi and Sasha joke that she is already an old woman when she tells them she's quitting alcohol during one of their girls' nights out. They never even doubt the real reason behind her decision and though they are two of her best friends, she doesn't tip them off. She is not ready yet.

/

 **Names**

The first thing she does upon finding out she's pregnant, just after telling Poseidon, is trying to choose a name for the baby.

It's a mistake.

Its existence still doesn't feel real enough to think of it in terms of a child. She can't imagine its personality or its looks and she is unable to think of a name that would fit it.

But she's young and excited and she tries all the same.

"I always liked the name Morgan or Morgaine for a girl, ever since I read _The Mists of Avalon_." She writes both down on a scrap of paper she unearthed from the bottom of her old school bag. "I loved her character. What do you think?"

Despite her misgiving, Poseidon seems almost as eager as she is and yet, somehow, he manages to be of no help at all.

"Morgan was actually the daughter of a Celtic divinity," he says lightly, "Did you know?"

"No," she admits, "Is that a problem?" Are there boundaries between Pantheons she is not aware of?

He shakes his head. "I like the name. It means 'lives by the sea' or 'fighter of the sea'."

Sally perks up. That sounds downright perfect and it was completely by chance.

But then Poseidon goes on, "I had a half-blood daughter named Morgaine during the Hundred Years' War." A faraway look enters his eyes. "She was a real fighter."

Sally senses a tragedy and a lump forms in her throat. A few weeks ago, she would've been tempted to ask, now though…she doesn't want to know.

"Ok, then…" she crosses over the names while Poseidon isn't looking, "What about…Cordelia, instead?"

Poseidon smiles again.

They go on like this for a while. Cordelia was the name of another of his children, just like Zale and Moana. Sally liked all of them, but she doesn't want her baby to be linked in any way to a demigod who died violently. It seems like bad luck.

Poseidon didn't like Adrian and she refused to even take into consideration Thalassa. Many others are thus ruled out, leaving them at an impasse.

"Dylan is a perfectly acceptable name," she mutters, tapping her pen against the table. The list of names lays forgotten in front of her, a mess of crossed-over options and ink splotches.

Poseidon scoffs. "So is Nerida and yet you didn't even write it down."

They glare at each other, neither willing to concede defeat.

"We'll be back here in a few months, won't we?"

Poseidon's eyebrows raise. "Yeah, and I already know in the end you'll be the one to choose a name, whether I like it or not. Women."

"That's the first intelligent thing I heard you say all day."

/

By the time her second month rolls around, she moves out of the apartment she shares with two other people to a bigger one she honestly couldn't afford if not for Poseidon.

She is reticent at first, always too proud to accept charity, not matter how much she needs it, but Poseidon convinces her by reminding her that bringing up a demigod in a cramped apartment she shares with two mortals is not the brightest of ideas.

"I won't be able to help you much longer," he tells her one evening as they chill on the run-down couch while Tyler cooks dinner and Malia sings off-key in the shower, "I wish you'd accept the little I can do for as long as I can do it."

She guesses pride has no place in a teenaged mother's life.

Second month also marks the beginning of her morning sickness and she's suddenly glad she now has her own apartment.

The first time she throws up in front of Poseidon, he looks ready to call 911 (if he even knows what 911 is). She has to explain to him that it is perfectly normal for a mortal woman to feel like that during a pregnancy. The face he makes is beyond amusing, but the whole exchange leads her to wonder if he's so used to bolting that he never even took the time to learn anything about human pregnancies.

It's not a reassuring thought.

/

 **Doubts**

"I went to see Doctor Silva today," she says as she waits for her pizza to heat.

Poseidon is sitting at the small, rickety table she usually shares with Malia and Tyler, pouting because she wouldn't allow him to cook her dinner and trying to hide it. Any other day, she would find it cute or even adorable: the big, powerful God of the Sea sulking like an overgrown child because he didn't get his way. Today, though, she's in a foul mood and she has been ever since her visit at the doctor.

Maybe 'foul' is not the right word. Maybe simply 'sad' would be better suited.

"He doesn't think we're ready to have a baby."

Poseidon looks up. His eyes are a flat teal green, like the sea on downcast days. "I'm over four thousand years old and in all this time I've never seen anyone be ready to have a baby, no matter how prepared they thought they were."

That's not what she wants to hear. "I'm not talking about everyone else. I'm talking about us – me."

Poseidon cocks his head to the side, contemplating her as she turns off the microwave and gingerly takes out the plate with her dinner.

Sally doesn't meet his eyes. She has always known that having a baby at her age would be anything but easy, and that's without taking the baby's bloodline into consideration, but to hear it said out-loud by her doctor, someone who probably saw desperate situations every day…

She picks at her pizza, slouching on her chair.

Maybe she's doing everything wrong. Maybe she should tell Poseidon to go back to his wife and forget about her; maybe she should've that abortion, go to college, build a career that has nothing to do with the Greek world. And she wouldn't be thinking just about her life: who was to say the child wouldn't resent her one day? Demigods rarely had long and happy lives. Perhaps it would be better if –

"I think you'll be a great mother."

She slowly raises her gaze from her pathetic dinner. Poseidon is staring at her, not a trace of doubt in his expression. "How do you know?"

He shrugs. "I'm a God. I know these things."

Sally rolls her eyes. "That's not how it works." And yet she feels undeniably cheered up by his certainty.

He takes her hand. "And I'm here to help you, right? I'm a fantastic father," he adds with a wink.

She smiles and chooses to ignore his lie, because they both know he won't be with her much longer. All that matters is that he's there now.

"Maybe I'll let you cook dinner tomorrow."

When Poseidon laughs, his eyes turn back to their customary bright sea green.

/

Third month, her closest friends realize something is going on.

They're having a pizza and movie night at Nick's place when Lisa, she of the no-filters, remarks on her slight weight gain.

Sally just laughs it off because she knows Lisa and she knows she doesn't mean to be hurtful.

"Don's not doing his job, Sal?" asks Noemi with a lewd grin.

It's typical of Noemi, of course, and yet it is right then and there that Sally realizes she can't hide the truth anymore. 'Don' is doing his job a bit _too_ well.

Eric rolls his eyes in disgust. "We don't need to know, Sal, really."

Noemi elbows her in a friendly manner. "Don't mind him, girl. We _want_ to know. I've been single _waaay_ too long – I need to live vicariously through you."

"Yeah, Eric just doesn't like your boyfriend." Lisa shrugs apologetically.

Noemi slaps her own forehead and Eric blushes to the roots of his blonde hair. "That's not true!" he denies fervently.

Unfortunately for him, Sally knows it actually _is_ true. It's probably because Poseidon can be more than a tad…alarming. Most of her friends seem to find it rather endearing and even fascinating – Noemi has candidly admitted she'd have gone for him if Sally herself wasn't so taken and Nick blushes and stutters every time Poseidon so much as glances in his direction – but Eric's not the only one who doesn't like him.

She can't help but notice that Sasha hasn't said anything since the conversation moved to the subject of her boyfriend.

Sally puts down her coke and clears her throat. "There's something I wanted to tell you guys."

"Did you and Don break up?" asks Eric at once, failing to hide his hopefulness.

Sally tries not to feel too offended on Poseidon's behalf.

"Shut up, idiot." Noemi shoves him and he tumbles half over their pizzas, eliciting shrieks of protest from the girls.

"Careful!" shouts Nick from the kitchen.

Noemi ignores all of them. "Sally," she begins, sounding unnecessarily formal, "is he moving in with you? Is that why you got the new apartment?"

Sally hesitates for a short second. "Yeah, he's moving in with me." _For now, at least._ Though she has no idea why Poseidon would want to live 'part-time' with her if he ultimately plans to disappear before the baby is born.

Noemi and Lisa squeal loudly.

Nick rushes in from the next room, bowl of just popped popcorn in hand. "Wait, what? You two are mental!", but even as he says that, he's grinning.

Of all her friends, he's probably the one who better understands just how lonely she often feels without a family.

Sasha and Eric exchange a glance. "Sal," she says tentatively, "are you sure that's wise? I mean, you two are only eighteen. Have you really thought about it?"

No, she can honestly say she hasn't. And no, it's certainly not wise and she already knows she's going to end up nursing a broken heart. Despite this, she's not going to go back on her decision. She needs to do what's best for both her and the baby.

Instead of answering, she drops the bomb, "Well, there is something else you need to know. I'm pregnant."

The silence is deafening.

/

 **Idle days**

She spends one of her rare days off with Sasha.

Poseidon is on Olympus, as he has been the whole week, and Sasha needs help with one of her college assignments. Sally may not be a student anymore, but everyone knows she's the best when it comes to literature.

She should've known her friend would've seized the opportunity to talk about the very last thing Sally wants to talk about.

"Sally," she starts, her tone full of hesitation, "I know you probably don't want to hear it, but there is something I think I need to say."

Sally puts her books, a remnant of her high school days she cherishes like faithful friends, on the table, but she makes no move to open them.

Sasha takes a deep breath. "Are you sure keeping the baby is the right choice? Have you thought about it?"

Sally doesn't say anything, her doubts always so close to the surface that some days she fears they'll suffocate her, and her friend seems to take that as an incentive to go on.

"You and Don are only eighteen. You don't have a family and neither does Don as far as I know. He doesn't even have a job! How will you provide for a baby?"

"Sasha, I –"

Sasha places a hand on her arm, stopping her. "I don't mean to hurt you, Sal, and I don't doubt your ability to be a great mother, but not now, not when you are so young. You know I talk from personal experience."

She does. Sasha told them about her biological parents back when they were still in High School. At the time, Sally promised herself that she would never make the same mistake, for both herself and the new life she would probably screw over. Funny how that turned out, she thinks.

"When the social services took me away from my family, I blamed them. Then, when I grew older, I blamed my parents for not having been able to take care of me as they should've. Now that I'm the same age they were when they had me, I understand just how difficult it must've been for them. They tried to do what was best for me and in the end that meant letting me go to a family that had the means to give me a good life." Sasha takes her hand, looking earnest. "I'm not saying you'll have to do the same. I just want you to really think about your future."

Sally then does something she promised herself she wouldn't do. She discloses her fears. "I don't know if I'll be able to be a good mother. I have no idea what a baby needs and I don't have parents to help me. And Don…I don't think he's any more prepared than I am."

Isn't that a riot? A thousands-year-old God who probably doesn't know the first thing about child rearing. Sally feels irrationally angry with him, so old and wise, but still so ignorant when it comes to matters of family.

She doesn't want to be unfair, though: it's not entirely his fault.

"Maybe this child will hate me one day. I don't know. But I…"

Her feelings, after weeks of uncertainty and fear and doubts, are suddenly obvious. There was always only one choice possible for her and she wonders at her inability to see it before now, when what she wanted from life has always been so clear to her, even as a child.

 _You'll be a great mother._ Poseidon said it too. It's time she starts to believe it.

"I want this baby, Sasha. I really do, and I'll do my best to make sure she or he will never have reason to resent me or Don. I swear."

Sasha smiles fondly. She flings an arm around Sally's shoulders and tugs her into a hug.

"You know I'm no fan of Don, but if that's what you _really_ want, I'll be with you every step of the way."

/

She wakes up one day well into her fourth month to realize that her morning sickness seems to have disappeared. She's tempted to throw a party.

Her belly bump starts to be noticeable and she can't hide it anymore from her fellow waiters. Most of them react with pity, but Sally can't find it in herself to fault them for it. She'd probably feel the same way if she wasn't the pregnant one.

Things are a bit strained between her and her friends after her abrupt confession, but everything goes back to normal once they accept that she's the same old Sally, just growing another person inside of her.

They decide it is up to them to provide her with everything she may need, from new, more comfortable clothes to the weird food combinations she craves at the oddest hours. Poseidon is vastly amused by it, but he starts to get territorial after Nick brings her home-made food from his mom one too many times, as if the idea of someone else helping her more than he does is somehow offensive.

Homemade food is just one example in a long list of things Nick does for her. He also unearths his old baby clothes from his parents' attic, saying they kept them so that he could one day use them for his own children.

"Fat chance of that happening," he laughs, pushing a stack of colourful onesies into her arms.

One morning, Lisa appears at her door toting an old-fashioned crib. There are a few cobwebs swinging from its legs, the wood is scraped and the paint has faded from a lively pink to a dirty white, but Sally doesn't care.

"You can paint it over," her red-headed friend says as she and Noemi push it into her living room, puffing and panting, "you can even wait until you know the sex of the baby this way."

Sally thinks it's perfect.

Poseidon doesn't agree. He spends a whole week glaring at the poor piece of furniture as if its presence in the apartment is a personal insult to him.

The biggest change brought about by her revealed pregnancy, though, is Eric's attitude. He and Poseidon will never be friends – not that the God of the Sea is interested in cultivating friendships with mortals – but he's warmer than before towards her boyfriend, more open, perhaps reassured on his character by the apparent ease with which he accepted her pregnancy. At this point, Sally fears she'll have to stage Poseidon's death to spare his honour and save face.

Of course, that is if Poseidon ever leaves. Despite his insistence that he won't be able to stay much longer, few are the mornings she wakes up without him by her side and even rarer are the nights she goes to sleep alone.

She has no intention of pointing that out to him.

/

 **Names, take #2**

"What about Dominic? It was one of my sister's favourites before she found out she was expecting a girl. I think it's really nice."

Noemi makes to write it down on Sally's tattered and barely legible list of names before Sally can express an opinion on it (she doesn't like it), but Nick steals the pen from her.

"I don't like it," he states firmly, "and the baby is a girl anyway."

Noemi rolls her eyes. "You don't know that. Sally needs a name for a girl and one for a boy. Now give me back that pen, you asshole."

She grabs it, but Nick doesn't let go of his end and so it begins a tug of war over it. The lone customer of the diner, who has been stubbornly nursing the same cup of coffee for the past hour, glares at them.

Eric doesn't lift his head from the Book of Names he's thumbing through with a critical expression. "Do you like Anya, Sal? Or maybe Charlie, for either a boy or a girl. Or Matthew, I really like this one. What do you think?"

Sally frowns, mechanically washing a coffee pot. "I don't know. They don't sound… _right_ , you know?"

From Eric's noncommittal 'hmm' she deduces that no, he doesn't know. It's not important: she's not going to be pressured into choosing a name that's anything less than perfect.

"But put Matthew on the list, please. I like that one."

"Oh, what about this one?" Sasha taps a name near the middle of the page, half-laying over Eric. "It's for a boy. Emrys, it means 'immortal one'." She snickers. "It's weird enough for you, Sal."

Sally laughs, but it sounds affected and taut to her own ears. _Immortal one_ …if only.

Noemi scoffs loudly and lets go of the pen unexpectedly, sending Nick sprawling on the counter.

"Hey!" he complains, clutching the hard-won pen to his chest.

"You two don't know what you are talking about!" she snatches the book from Eric's hands. She mutters over it for a moment, leafing through the pages. "Here. If it's a girl, you should call her Persephone. You love Greek mythology!"

Yeah, she loves it more than Noemi suspects.

Persephone, though…it's a good name, but would the Queen of the Underworld appreciate having a demigod named after her or would she be offended by it? Sally knows Gods can be tricky and unpredictable.

Sasha shakes her head. "The other kids will make fun of her! They'll call her Percy!"

Sally's left eyebrow climbs up. "I like Percy," she says, sounding more insulted than she meant to.

"For a boy, maybe," Sasha points out, "but for a girl?"

Nick nods. "Yeah, and it sounds so… _English_!"

Noemi, whose parents are English and who was born in England, glares daggers at him. "What's wrong with that exactly?"

Nick raises his hands in surrender. "That's not it at all. It just sounds a bit standoffish."

"For what it's worth," Eric says, "I like it, Sally. You should add it to the list."

Sally bites her lip. She should, but it's still not perfect. Something is missing.

And then Noemi suggests a name that could possibly lead Poseidon to either mass murder or suicide by Tartarus. "Hey, I've found the _perfect_ one for a brainiac like you, Sal! Athena!"

/

Fifth month, the back aches start and sleep becomes a distant memory. Fortunately, Poseidon is rather apt when it comes to massages. She thinks it's a peculiar ability for a Greek God to possess.

She's also incredibly horny. She's always liked sex, but now she likes it so much it's almost ridiculous. It seems to her that she can't go a day without. Poseidon is, of course, more than willing to help her with her predicament. On the days she doesn't work, they don't even get out of bed.

She has another check-up with Doctor Silva that month and Poseidon insists on going with her, something he has never done before.

"I thought you weren't interested in mortal medicine," she says as they get on the metro.

"I'm not," he doesn't clarify beyond that, "You need a car."

Doctor Silva seems happy to meet Poseidon. Sally suspects he thought she was alone despite what she told him or maybe that Poseidon simply wasn't interested in the pregnancy.

Everything is going well. Baby is healthy and growing bigger, something Sally doesn't need to be told, as her round belly can attest. It also decided to turn around sometimes in the past month.

"I can see the sex." Dr Silva points at the screen. "Do you want to know?"

Sally glances at Poseidon, wishing to know his preference on the matter, but he just shrugs.

"Yeah," she answers, "should make finding the name easier, at the very least."

Dr Silva chuckles. "Well, it's a little boy. If it helps, I think Raphael is a fantastic name."

When they leave, the doctor is in such a good mood that he even forgets to remind her she can still choose adoption. As she closes the door, she notices for the first time the name inscribed on it: Dr Raphael Silva.

/

 **Kicking and punching**

Baby starts moving that month.

The first time it's a small kick. They are in her still half-empty kitchen and Poseidon is putting away her groceries while she complains that he won't let her do it.

"I'm just trying to help, Sally," he huffs, sounding vexed.

Sally snorts. "I'm pregnant, not dying. I can do it –" a gasp cuts her off and Poseidon turns around so fast the packet of chips he's holding goes flying to the other end of the room.

He hurries to her side. "What's wrong?"

Sally cradles her bump. "I think Baby moved. He _kicked_ me!" she's not sure if she sounds more baffled or freaked out.

Poseidon looks relived. "That's normal."

Sally rolls her eyes heavenward. "I know that. I just…it's weird, feeling someone move inside of you."

Poseidon smirks, his sea green eyes dancing with amusement. "Is it?" he asks in a tone full of double meanings.

Sally punches him in the gut. "Not like that, perv."

He laughs, not even faking pain at the blow. What a dick. "Ok, ok. Sorry. I'm serious."

"You ruined the moment."

Poseidon smiles, and this time it's a real smile, the lop-sided one that never fails to make her heart skip a beat. It's the smile she fell in love with. He kneels in front of her and gently lays a hand on her belly. It's still there when Baby kicks again a few seconds later.

Poseidon's grin grows wider. Sally thinks he looks younger and far more cheerful than his usual brooding self. "Hi, Baby," he whispers, and then he adds, "I can't believe I'm talking to your belly."

"It's sweet," she says, covering his scarred hand with her own.

Poseidon hums. "I never had this before," he admits suddenly, "Immortal pregnancies are…different, far shorter. Godly babies grow so fast it's as if they go from childhood to adulthood in the blink of an eye."

"And," she hesitates, "what about your other mortal lovers?"

Poseidon doesn't meet her eyes. "I was never there. Part of it was that it was just not done. You got a mortal woman pregnant, you left. It was routine. Oh," he adds when he sees her disapproving expression, "Goddesses did the same: they would leave the baby on the mortal father's doorstep as soon as it was born and that was that." He smiles and Sally thinks it's slightly bitter. "It was a different world. I won't deny that most of the time I simply wasn't interested in being there for my lovers or for my children more than strictly necessary. Now, though…things change even for immortal Gods, I guess."

She is almost scared to ask. "Why?"

He looks up and Sally doesn't need him to say it out-loud to know what he's thinking: it's clearly written in his eyes. Her heart swells.

"I love you," he says simply, "I don't think I can leave."

/

Half-way through her sixth month, she begins attending night classes to get her high-school degree. The pregnancy is going to make things more complicated, but she plans on going to college one day and she feels she has put her education on the back burner far too long. Both her friends and Poseidon agree.

"I know you are busy, but you're going to regret it if you don't take this chance," Lisa tells her one afternoon as they shop for clothes. Summer is already in the air and they plan to spend a few days at the beach as soon as possible. "And it's better if you do it now instead of waiting until Baby is born, right?"

Noemi nods from the footstool she's using as a chair, half buried under Lisa's apparently endless selection of beach-wear. "Yeah, and you wouldn't want to deprive the world of your marvellously written stories, right?"

Does she need a degree to be a writer? She's not sure, but it certainly can't hurt.

Poseidon echoes them that same evening. "You could cut your hours at the diner." He raises his hands in a placatory way when she goes to retort. "I know you don't like to depend on other people – trust me, I understand the need to be independent – but this baby is my responsibility too. It is only right that I do my part."

And so she trudges to her first lesson a few days later, late into the evening, tired from a double shift at work (because she's too stubborn to cut her hours) and with swollen feet, feeling as if she's about to make a terrible mistake and longing for her couch.

In the end, her love for learning trumps her pessimism and she leaves after three hours with a smile on her face and a list of new books to read in her bag.

The topic: the Archetype of the Classical Hero.

/

 **Matters of family**

The flash of the lightning turns the night into day and the loud rumble of the thunder shakes the windows.

Poseidon snickers under his breath and the sound reverberates in her ears.

Sally raises her head from his chest. "What's so funny?"

"My brother," he murmurs against her hair, one hand lazily drawing circles on her belly. Baby is particularly unsettled today. "Our sister, his wife, found out he was, ah, maintaining a rather close relationship with a mortal woman. Again."

"You are a bunch of cheaters," she mutters.

"Hypocrite." She bites him on the neck in retaliation, which, in retrospect, is not such a good idea. He hugs her tighter. "Though that's not the only reason she's angry."

She looks up again, propping herself on the couch. "Really? Why, then?"

"You know why. I told you about the pact we made." He trails a line of kisses down her neck and one of his hands slips under her shirt.

Sally grasps his wrist and pulls it out. "You have," she agrees, ignoring his disappointed groan, "but you never told me _why_ you swore off relationships with mortals. Not that it seems to be working."

Poseidon seems to regret having said anything. "It's a long story."

Sally kisses his chest. "So you've said and I want to hear it."

He pushes himself into a sitting position, pulling her with him. "Sally…this is a family matter."

"Am I not your family too?" she grabs his chin and forces him to meet her eyes. "Isn't this baby?"

That brings him up short. He swallows visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're not going to like it."

Sally leans back a bit. Her throat feels suddenly tight. "Tell me," she orders, "as the mortal you're having a forbidden relationship with, I think I've a right to know."

Poseidon sighs. "After the Second World War, the Oracle gave a prophecy. She foresaw the coming of a child of the eldest Gods that would either save or…raze Olympus on his or her sixteenth birthday."

"Eldest Gods," she repeats. There is a high-pitched ringing in her ears. "You and your brothers."

He nods, staring at her. "It doesn't necessarily mean our baby, Sally."

She inhales sharply. "Who else?"

"My younger brother. He has a five-year-old girl. I don't think anyone else knows about her. _He_ doesn't even know _I_ know."

"Should I hope for her to be the one?" she wonders bitterly, "If Olympus' rage was aimed at her, an innocent child, my own son would be spared, right?"

"Sally…"

Poseidon makes to grab her hand, his expression distraught, but she moves away. She gets up, her growing belly hindering her movements.

"If your family finds out…" she leaves the question hanging.

Poseidon looks at the floor. "They'd do anything in their power to make sure he doesn't live to be sixteen. That's why we have to be so careful."

Sally turns her back on him, tears burning in the back of her eyes. She hugs her belly, cradling her baby through her own flesh. Betrayal stings hot and sharp. "I can't believe you did something like this to us."

"Sally…I'm so sorry."

She has never heard him sound so frail and uncertain. It doesn't make her feel more forgiving. "What else does the prophecy say?"

She hears him get up, but she doesn't face him. A kind of terror she has never felt before roots her to the spot.

"The demigod will make a choice that will…end his days."

Sally closes her eyes. Hot tears leave scalding trails down her cheeks. "Get out."

"My love…"

"Out, Poseidon. I want to be alone."

He sighs and it is such a broken sound Sally is almost tempted to take her words back. But then Baby kicks and rage swallows her whole.

"I understand," he says softly, "when… _if_ you want me back, you just need to call."

Sally doesn't stop him when he leans over her shoulder to kiss her on the cheek just before turning into mist.

She isn't sure whether the cold imprint on her skin is sea spray or his tears.

/

The seventh month is perhaps the hardest.

Though Sally doesn't call him, Poseidon comes back after a few days. He brings groceries and the books Sally needs to read for her classes as a sort of peace offering, but he leaves again as soon as she makes it clear he's not welcome.

It goes on like this for the whole month.

Poseidon exists on the outskirts of her life, helping her but never really coming into contact with her. She refuses to talk to him, no matter how hard he tries, and it's obvious the enforced separation weights heavily on him.

"You're not the only one suffering, Sally," he confesses one day as he's about to leave, "It's my child too."

"And you're the one who put him in danger," Sally fires back, "It's up to you and your jackass relatives to solve this situation."

She tries to forgive Poseidon. She _wants_ to forgive Poseidon. Not seeing him, not being with him, is driving her crazy.

But she can't.

Every time she thinks she can take him back, she's reminded of the future that awaits her baby and she can't stand it.

Her friends don't understand their sudden distance and Sally, of course, can't explain without ending up in a padded room.

They are the best of friends, though, and they try to help even if they don't know what's going on. Noemi brings her the best chocolate from her parents' shop and they eat it together while watching tear-jerking movies, as if her hormones weren't bad enough on their own; Lisa waits for her every night at the end of her classes to drive her home and they end up having dinner together more often than not; Eric offers to paint Baby's room and she wakes up one morning to find him out of her door with half a dozen buckets of paint, at least ten different brushes and a paint-splattered hat on his head; Sasha insists upon massaging her feet and she's also the one appointed to badmouthing Poseidon because "that's what friends do when your boyfriend is being an asshole".

"How do you know he's the one in the wrong?" she asks.

Sasha stares at her as if she's stupid. "Of course it's his fault, Sal."

Nick is the one on whose shoulder she cries, just as it has always been, ever since they were children and all through High School. He's also the one who urges her to forgive Poseidon.

"I know you love him, Sally," he whispers after she has done sobbing on his shoulder, "even an idiot like Eric could see it." He winks and she grins wetly. Nick turns serious again. "And he loves you too. If something is wrong, you two need to talk about it." A stray thought hits him then, "unless he cheated on you. Did he cheat on you? Because if he did, we'll beat him up. I'll even let Lisa bring her collection of knives with her."

Sally snorts in laughter. "Nick, no! He didn't cheat on me." Only on his wife, but she doesn't think Nick would appreciate hearing that.

"Oh, good." Nick appears relieved. "I think he'd have used me as a punching bag anyway. But I would've tried, for you." He dries her tears with his thumbs. "No more crying now, ok? You'll see, everything will work out."

Sally smiles, but she knows it's not as simple as Nick makes it out to be.

She's not crying for Poseidon or for herself: she's crying because her baby still hasn't taken his first breath and she already knows she'll have to bury him.

/

 **Motherly advice**

The last Sunday of June, she has lunch with Nick's family at his parents' house.

She's sitting on a stool in the kitchen, waiting for Nick's older sisters to arrive, when his mother sits down next to her, trying, and failing, not to appear concerned.

"How are you, honey? Nick has told me you and your boyfriend have hit a rough patch. Is it the pregnancy?"

Sally smiles tightly. Nick is a loyal and dependable friend, but if there is one thing he has never been able to do, it is keeping his troubles – and everyone else's – from his mother.

Mrs Olvera seems to read her mind. "Don't blame him. He's just worried about you."

"I know," Sally sighs, "I wish he wasn't. I'm sure we'll work through it."

The older woman smiles knowingly. "Without talking to each-other?" Sally looks away. "Honey, I'm not your mother and maybe you aren't interested in advice from me, but –"

"No, Mrs Olvera," Sally interrupts her, "You know I always appreciate your help."

It's the truth. She is the closest thing Sally has to a mother.

Mrs Olvera strokes her hair, her weathered hand trembling slightly. "Then I want you to remember that no relationship is perfect and though I hope yours won't be one of those, some simply aren't made to last." Sally bites her lip almost to the point of drawing blood. "I'm not saying this to discourage you, Sally. I want you to understand that unless you two are willing to communicate, even when it seems impossible, _especially_ when it seems impossible, then your relationship stands no chance. Successful couples are those willing to compromise, unless, of course, the differences between the two partners are insurmountable. Do you think that's the case between you and Don?"

A clear-sighted mortal and a Greek God. Yeah, it is quite possible the differences between them really _are_ insurmountable.

Still, she knows Mrs Olvera's advice is priceless. She's an agnostic Native American woman who married a catholic Latino man. Of their three children, one married a Muslim man, the other is a resolute Human Rights advocate who travels all over the world and who has a new tattoo every time she comes home and of course Nick, who is openly gay and has been ever since they were barely teenagers. No one knows more about diversity than Mrs Olvera does.

Unfortunately, their problems go much deeper than simple differences: they are rooted in their child's destiny.

When she doesn't offer an answer, the older woman goes on, "That's what you need to figure out, honey, and you two need to do it together. Not only for yourselves, but for the baby too. If you aren't made for each-other, it's better to know it now rather than when it's too late." She takes hold of Sally's hands and guides them to her belly. Baby kicks and Mrs Olvera's mouth distends into a fond smile. "But if your Don is worth fighting for, don't give up on him so easily. You'll regret it all your life."

Sally inhales sharply, pushing back the tears that seem to come so easily these days.

Mrs Olvera is right, she realises. Maybe she won't ever be able to forgive Poseidon; maybe in the end, he'll have to do exactly what he doesn't want to and leave them; maybe there is no future for them, just as she feared at the beginning of their relationship, long before Baby came into the picture.

But if there is a chance for them, she wants to take it. If there is a chance they'll be able to protect their child and change his fate, she can't let it slip from her fingers.

If she doesn't try, she'll always be haunted by what could've been.

/

Eighth month and her belly is so big she can't see her own damn feet. She feels as if a watermelon is chilling in her stomach and she can barely get out of bed on her own.

Sally is way too stubborn to admit it, but having Poseidon back is a great help. He seems eager to earn her forgiveness, but they have yet to brave the subject of the prophecy. She doesn't know how long this truce will last.

Though she makes no mention of it, unwilling to disrupt the tentative peace they have achieved so close to Baby's birth, she is tormented not only by her child's future, but also by what it would mean for the daughter of Zeus if her son wasn't the one the prophecy refers to. After all, the girl is the eldest of the two.

She often catches herself begging _'not him, anyone but him'_ only to feel disgusted with herself seconds later because she's essentially asking the universe to doom another innocent child, as long as it is not her own. She wonders if this is what every mother feels, this willingness to condemn even a young girl if it means saving her baby, and she misses her own parents more than ever. Perhaps things would be easier if they were with her.

Her friends are relived she and Poseidon seem to be back on stable ground. Despite this, Sasha takes her aside one evening to tell her she doesn't have to remain with him only for the baby. Sally has to reassure her – for what's probably the hundredth time, but who is counting? – that she loves Poseidon and wants to be with him.

She still goes in at work almost every day – despite Poseidon's urging that she takes a few weeks off – but her boss doesn't allow her to do anything more exhausting than running the register. She doesn't mind: it gives her time to think and loads of clients still tip her even though she doesn't wait on them. She jokingly asks her colleagues if she looks that pitiful.

Her lessons are going well too and she thinks she'll be able to get her diploma before Baby is born. The teachers seem to agree. What's more, her inspiration seems to have come back and she's writing stories again.

"Do I have one of your nephews to thank for this?" she asks Poseidon once, never raising her eyes from her bulging notebook.

She lets one of her teacher, a literature professor at NYU, read a few of her stories after he insists and he tells her she has good chances of getting published one day. She sure hopes so.

In the meantime, she keeps writing. It seems to her that's the only thing she does when she's not working or studying.

And if her mind is a bit fixated on heroes and monsters…well, nothing wrong with that.

/

 **Perseus, the Destroyer**

The perfect name comes to her on one of her many sleepless nights.

She's sitting at her table, her feet propped up on one of the chairs and a steaming cup of tea waiting for her on the kitchen's counter.

She's reading, as she often does when she can't sleep.

Unlike the rest of the books for her classes, which Poseidon brought for her a few weeks ago and are still so new they are barely dog-eared, this one is so old a few words here and there have faded.

It was her father's, one of the few things she managed to salvage from the selling spree her uncle went on a few years after her parents' death, and she treasures it like a sacred relic.

She always feels him close when she holds his beloved books in her hands.

This one in particular, she remembers from her childhood.

Her father was a Greek Mythology enthusiast, which she finds more than a tad ironic, and so, instead of putting her to sleep with fairy-tales like every other parent on the face of the earth, and despite her mother's amused griping, she was treated to an extensive reading of the legends of the heroes of old even as a child.

Achilles and Hector, Atalanta and Heracles, Cyrene and Theseus. They were her friends back when her parents were still alive and the love for Greek Mythology has been a constant all her life.

Her father would've sold a leg and an arm to know what she knows: that those warriors once walked the earth and that their heroic battles are more than the waking dreams of creative minds.

She's not certain he would be all that stoked about his daughter dating one of those same heroes' father, though.

There was one hero her dad adored above all, but back when she was a silly kid, she couldn't understand why.

Why him, when he hadn't done anything more spectacular than any other hero? Why not his more famous brother, the great Heracles, powerful beyond compare? Why not Cyrene, a mortal woman who could fight Ares himself?

"But pumpkin," her dad would share in a whisper, careful not to wake up her mom sleeping in the room next to hers, "isn't it obvious? They all let their craving for power and fame control their life. They all wanted to be the strongest, the bravest, the cleverest, the richest. They yearned to stand above the Gods themselves. And what did they get? Nothing. They were so blinded by what they wanted that they lost sight of what they needed. You know what this hero had? A mother that loved him above all else, a wife he got to spend his life with and children that looked up to him. Family and loved ones are what we all should be fighting for, not power and not gold. That's the only kind of immortality worth having, Sally." He would ruffle her hair as she giggled, not really understanding what he was telling her. "What use is being respected if you aren't trusted? Remember Sally, loyalty to yourself and to your family is what will earn you true happiness."

Her father was right, she finally realises. That hero had everything.

She caresses her belly, feeling Baby move. Her own little hero, she thinks. Though children of different Gods, they do have something in common: the unconditional love of a mother. She's going to make sure the similarities don't end there. Her baby is going to know love and happiness and family and he's going to do it all bearing the name of the only Greek hero whose story did not end in tragedy.

 _Perseus._

Her fingers skim to the first page of the book. There, written in blue ink in her father's messy handwriting, is inscribed his name: Jim Jackson.

She smiles wetly, silent tears streaming down her face. _Perseus Jim Jackson_.

It is only right that her son be named after the great hero who had a happy ending and the great man who taught her why that was possible.

When, hours later, Poseidon coalesces from mist into their apartment, she greets him with a blinding smile and an excited, "I've found the perfect name. Perseus!"

Poseidon has a fit. What a drama queen.

/

August comes hot and heavy and brings with it the last weeks of her pregnancy.

She has no choice but to take time off from work before the heat wave that's tormenting New York kills her. It gives her more time to study and she's able to sign up for the last session of exams on the first week of August. She passes with flying colours, which is both a surprise and a relief. Every time she looks at her results, she feels cautiously optimistic about her future, something she hasn't felt in a long while.

To celebrate, her friends take her to Montauk, her favourite vacation spot ever since she was a small child, not to mention the place where she and Poseidon met.

Wearing a bikini while nine months pregnant is a bit of a hassle and people seem to think her belly is a national monument they can rub all they want for good fortune, but it's totally worth it, even if her boyfriend is stuck on Olympus and can't be there.

Perseus seems to know he's close to the sea even inside her. He kicks and turns every time she steps out of the water and goes as still as a statue as soon as she gets back inside. Because of this, she ends up spending the greater part of her vacation half-submerged in the tepid ocean water, even when the horizon is cloudy and threatening and the waves are choppy. Her friends caution her not to overestimate her ability to swim in rough water in her condition, but she knows if there is one thing she and her baby have no reason to fear, that's the sea.

Despite this, the overcast weather and the foaming sea worry her more than she's willing to admit. She has learned to recognize Poseidon's moods and this can mean only one thing: he's just a small annoyance away from pure, unadulterated fury.

While she knows his level of tolerance is toddler-like when it comes to his family and especially his brothers, she can't ignore her mind's unhelpful suggestion that something worse than the usual godly squabble may be going on.

Poseidon would've already warned her if someone knew about their child, right?

Maybe, she tells herself one morning, floating on the placid water in a last-ditch attempt to get Perseus to sleep and let her rest too, he still hasn't gotten over her choice for the baby's name and that's just him throwing a tantrum.

Two weeks ago, after she told him and after he got over the shock, he tried to convince her to choose another name. He even begged her. He was so desperate not to have his son share a name with one of Zeus' that he even brought the prophecy into it.

"To make us all feel better about the possibility of him razing Olympus," he said, his eyes a deep, deep blue, white-flecked and turbulent, "you decide to call him Perseus, which literally means 'to destroy'. Nice and not at all ominous."

"It also means 'avenger', doesn't it?" she pointed out, already busy writing _Perseus Jim Jackson_ all over a page of her notebook, just to see how it looked.

"That's not an improvement, Sally."

She rolled her eyes. "Get over it, Poseidon. You know why I chose it."

And that was the end of it, or so she thought then. She's not so sure now. Not that it matters: she has found the perfect name and Poseidon's dramatics won't change her mind.

'Perseus' sounds a bit pretentious for a baby, though, that much she's willing to grant. It's a hero's name – it makes her think of a great warrior battling fearsome monsters, and not of a hopefully happy and giggling baby completely dependent on her. That what she wants, of course: for her son to be as strong and powerful as his name implies, but she also wants him to be her child and nothing more for as long as possible.

"It's obvious," Noemi says when she shares the less incriminating part of her plight with her friends, "the little guy needs a nickname."

"Or an entirely new name." Eric gestures with his slice of pineapple. "Perseus is great and everything, Sal, but most people can't even pronounce it. Why not Matthew? You liked it!"

Sally is tempted to ignore his objection. "I did. I still do, but it's not the right name. I'm not changing my mind, so just give up."

Sasha snaps her fingers victoriously. "You liked Percy too, right? _Percy_ is pretty close to _Perseus_. It could work."

It definitely can. Perseus 'Percy' Jackson, she tries it out in her mind, swinging lightly on the old, patched-up rocking chair someone left on the porch of the cabin they rented. She likes how it sounds.

Little Percy.

A week after her brief holiday, on the seventeenth of August, she goes into labour.

The pains start off slowly around mid-afternoon, so she's prepared. She has all the time in the world to put a few more things in the bag that's been waiting at the foot of her bed for the past month and once Poseidon gets there, blissfully unaware he's about to become father for the…however many times he has been father, she simply shoves it in his arms and pulls him out of the door by his shirt.

She's about to flag down a taxi when Poseidon gets on with the program and decides that mortal travel is not good enough, given the situation. She blinks once and she's standing just inside the hospital's doors, the doctors and nurses milling around apparently unperturbed by their miraculous appearance. The Mist will never cease to amaze her.

Percy is born a few hours later, on the early morning of the eighteenth.

Sally cradles him to her chest, tired and hurting, but happier than she has ever been in her life. He's red and wrinkly, his dark hair wet and stuck to his head, and so small she can't believe he'll ever grow big enough to leave her protective embrace. He stops screaming only for a moment when they lay him in her arms, as if he wants the whole world to know he's there and ready to take on everything it will throw at him.

His eyes blink open long enough for her to glimpse their colour: green as the sparkling water of the sea at dawn and just as mesmerizing.

She thinks that sixteen years won't certainly be enough to hug him and kiss him as much as she wishes to. She swears to him, to that screaming bundle of hope, that she'll do everything in her power to make sure he'll get to celebrate his seventeenth birthday.

/

 **Day one**

"He's really _soft_. Like a marshmallow."

"My son is _not_ a marshmallow, _Edwin_."

"My name is _Eric_! Eric! How difficult can it be to remember?"

Sally winces as Eric's voice rings shrilly, as it always does when he's annoyed. Percy's small legs kick the air, but luckily, he gives no signs of waking up.

Poseidon rolls his eyes. "Whatever, Edgar."

She knows he's doing it on purpose. How could she not? He's been finding more and more outrageous names for Eric ever since they met. And yet, despite knowing it will do no good, she tries anyway. "Stop it, guys. You'll wake him."

"Is it bad that I _want_ him to wake?" Noemi interjects in a whisper.

"Yes, it is." Sally is quick to answer, before her friend can get strange ideas. "He screamed for hours after he was born."

"Well, he's bound to be used to life by now, right? We want to meet him!" Nick whines, pouting childishly, "he has been sleeping for _ages_."

Poseidon smiles wryly. "I fear the import of the situation may be lost on you. Perseus is a baby, not a toy. We are not going to wake him up just so that you can ogle him."

Their despondent grumblings fill the air, but they all go still and quiet when Percy whimpers, scared, despite their wishes, of disturbing him for real.

Lisa trails a finger down one of Percy's tiny hands. He sucks on his pacifier for a moment or two and then, with a last deep sigh, he goes limp.

"Oh. My. God," Sasha coos, "I want to _squeeze_ him so badly! Is that normal?"

"Probably," Poseidon admits, never taking his eyes off the sleeping baby.

Sally wonders whether he is scared Percy will disappear into thin air, or just curious about this new human. Maybe a bit of both: the look in his eyes goes from utterly enthralled to scientifically detached every few minutes.

"But I would advise you not to do that," he goes on, and she has to admire his ability to come off not at all threatening despite the power lurking behind his apparently benevolent gaze. She should've known he would turn all possessive. "Babies are rather fragile things."

"Or you can always make your own," Sally suggests with a wink, "and squeeze him all you want."

Sasha grimaces. "Ugh. I'd rather not, thank you. I like babies only when they belong to someone else."

Sally meets Nick's eyes for a fleeting moment. They both glance away just as swiftly, smothering a laugh. She doesn't even know what's so funny: maybe the post-partum adrenaline is going to her head. She can't tell what Nick's excuse is.

"When are they letting you go home?" Eric asks, apparently having grown tired of brooding and being ignored by all his friends because of it.

Sally shrugs. "Tomorrow, I think. Percy is perfectly healthy, so there is no reason to keep us here any longer."

"I feel I should warn you that my parents will probably be waiting outside of your door." Nick scratches the back of his head, twin red blotches colouring his cheeks. "And they'll have enough food to feed an army with them."

"At least we won't have to cook for a while," Sally says philosophically. Nothing short of an Apocalypse is going to stop Mr and Mrs Olvera from pampering them, anyway. Better to accept it now of their own free will than be forced to in a few days.

"I like cooking," Poseidon points out, looking a bit put out by the turn of events.

Noemi pats him on the shoulder and Sally is honestly surprised her hand doesn't catch fire the way Poseidon glares at it. "I'm sure you'll get your chance to shine soon."

Percy starts crying then, and her boyfriend is so distracted by the heart-rending sound that he forgets to turn poor Noemi into an amoeba. Sally didn't think she'd be this happy to hear that ear-splitting screech so soon.

Lisa jumps about a foot in the air and goes crashing into Eric, who is so pale Sally fears he may be about to faint. Nick's hands flit nervously over the crib, as if he can't decide whether to grab the baby inside it or let someone more competent do it.

Sasha covers her ears, a disgruntled expression on her face. "First reason why I don't want children: they cry!"

Noemi seems to be the only unperturbed one. "You were right: he's definitely more likeable when he's sleeping."

Percy shrieks even louder, maybe offended that no one is running to his side. Luckily for him, Poseidon seems to have been waiting for this moment the whole morning.

He snatches the baby from his resting place before Sally can put a foot out of the bed and holds him close to his chest with one hand. With the other, he gently offers the blue pacifier to him. Percy whines and tries to turn his head around; he gives up when he realizes he's way too weak to do anything of the sort and, with a defeated sigh, he lets his father put the pacifier between his puckered lips.

"I thought he didn't even know how to hold a baby," Eric mutters disparagingly.

Sally thinks he's probably still bitter about the name thing or he would leave such bitchy remarks to Sasha.

Poseidon ignores him. Perhaps he feels slightly more forgiving than usual just a few hours after his son was born. When it comes down to it, she knows that her friends – and maybe she, too – are barely children to his eyes and that he often finds their antics amusing, if a tad disconcerting.

Percy burrows against his father's chest, seemingly lulled by the beating of his heart.

Sometimes, when she lays close to him, she thinks she can hear the coming and going of the waves. Percy, who is more attuned to the sea than she could ever be, probably hears the same and finds it reassuring.

Her friends leave a few minutes later, kicked out by an uncompromising nurse with a scowl ominous enough to keep even a God in his place. Not that Poseidon is doing much of anything to help them: in fact, he watches them go with a pleased smile, absent-mindedly rocking Percy. Sally is too exhausted to feel angry on their behalf, but she makes a mental note to remind Poseidon that her friends are there to stay and he better get used to it soon.

Their baby is now wide-awake, but thankfully silent. His half-opened eyes flit all over the room, finally settling on his father.

Poseidon tweaks his small, upturned nose gently, smiling down at him. Percy makes a soft, cooing noise.

"You were right, I think," the God says after a moment.

Sally cocks her head to the side, swallowing the natural response of 'I'm always right'. She feels whatever he's about to say is far too momentous to make light of. "About what?"

"About his name," he admits, smoothing down Percy's tousled hair.

Sally is unexpectedly moved by such a simple confession. She hadn't realized how much it meant to her to have him accept their son's name.

"Perseus is perfect, all things considered," he goes on, "even if I don't like the idea of him being named after one of my brother's insufferable brats."

And of course, he has to ruin it.

"Poseidon," she chides softly.

He winks at her, his sea-coloured eyes unusually bright and green. "Let's hope it brings him luck."

/

Sixteen years go by before she can say, without the shadow of a doubt, that yes, the name certainly brought him luck. Seeing her beautiful son step out of the Empire State Building, his armour dented beyond repair and his trusted sword still unsheathed, but smiling as bright as the sun, is the only satisfaction she'll ever need.

If Poseidon's proud, relieved grin is anything to go by, he whole-heartedly agrees.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Well, it's been a while since I updated this fic. Sorry! Anyway, this one-shot is pretty much pure fluff. I was feeling sweet when I wrote it and I wanted a bit of father-son bonding. Let me know if you liked it!

 **Thank you to all my followers.**

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan (lucky guy!).

/

 **Day by the Sea**

The sand is hot under his body and the water cool on his feet.

Poseidon relaxes, letting thoughts of thrice-damned councils and worries of ancient monsters stirring in the depths of the ocean slip from his mind.

He waited too long to come back to the mortal world, he decides as he abandons himself to the feel of the gentle sea breeze.

A few metres from him, two children shrieks in delight as they play in the shallow water; who he assumes are their parents lay not far from them, sunbathing; and four teenagers are throwing a volleyball around in a corner of the beach by the cliffs.

Peals of laughter are blown his way by the breeze every few minutes, lulling him into a light sleep. Shadowy figures dance behind his eyelids.

No one else is there at this time of the morning and Poseidon prefers it this way.

No more polluting humans than necessary, but only quiet, peace and –

"Ow!"

Something leaps straight on his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

"Daddy!"

The shrill, childish voice is like a spike in his brain. He opens his eyes a sliver, glaring ineffectually at his son. Percy grins brightly, proudly showing the gap between his front teeth, a recent development that left him with a slight lisp.

"What you doin'?"

Poseidon sighs. "Trying to relax."

The deeper meaning of his answer is, of course, lost on the four-year-old.

Percy cocks his head to the side. "Why?"

"Because I'm tired kid," he manages to say despite the tic in his jaw.

"Why, daddy?"

Because you're a foul little beast who doesn't let me have a moment of peace, that's why, he thinks.

Poseidon inhales deeply. No, that's not fair, he tells himself, looking at Percy as the child stared back at him trustingly and full of curiosity. He can't take his anger at his siblings out on his boy.

"Because daddy works too much," he says instead, forcing a smile on his lips, "and you, shrimp, shouldn't you still be sleeping?"

He tugs at a sleeve of his pony-patterned pyjamas for emphasis.

Percy shakes his head, his wild hair flying in front of his eyes. "Not sweepy."

"Really? I think you're lying. You know what we do to liars?"

Percy's eyes widens comically and he makes to jump away from him, but Poseidon easily wraps an arm around his small waist. Trapped as he is, the child can do nothing when Poseidon begins to tickle him on the sides.

Percy giggles, squirming madly and driving his knees and feet deeper into his stomach. Poseidon is fairly sure the brat's doing it on purpose. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't weight enough to be anything more than a slight annoyance.

He hitches the child higher on his chest and hugs him tight, still tormenting him. Percy's giggles turns into shrieks of laughter and his small hands push at Poseidon's shoulders.

"Daddy! Stop it!"

"You sure?" he asks. An honest smile stretches his lips as his fingers stills. "I can continue if you want."

Percy shakes his head. "Yeah!"

Well, that's not ambiguous at all. "I don't understand," he says, trailing his fingers over Percy's tan skin, "you want me to continue or not?"

The child squirms away, hiding his face against his chest. "No!"

Poseidon throws his head back and laughs, his bad mood swept away by the sound of Percy's happy giggles.

He kisses the child's dark head. "Does your mom know you are here?" Percy nods, head still tucked under his chin. Poseidon pokes him on the ribs. "Don't lie."

Percy gives him what Sally likes to call the baby seal eyes treatment. "She was sweepin'. I saw you from the window an' wanted to pway."

Poseidon's resolve crumbles under the effect of his wide eyes and pouty lips, just as the brat wants, no doubt. "You are a pest."

He gets up slowly, giving Percy time to throw his slim arms around his neck. There are days Poseidon fears the kid will never be able to lift a sword.

Percy wriggles in his embrace, trying to get back to the ground. "Daddy, I want to sim."

" _Swim_ , Percy," Poseidon corrects without thinking about it, "and you can't do that without your swimming suit, can you?"

"I guess," he mumbles, staring mournfully at the water.

Just then, the waves crash against the shore with unexpected violence, as though the sea, too, objects to their separation. The siblings playing in the shallow water are pushed under amidst shouts of protest.

Poseidon sniggers as the parents catapult themselves off their beach towels and towards their children.

Percy watches too, frowning. "What's funny, Daddy?"

"Nothing." He pinches one of his round cheeks gently. "Don't tell your mom I laughed."

Percy's upturned nose scrunches up and he moves his head away. "Okay!"

"Good kid." Poseidon pushes open the door of their beach house and then closes it softly behind them, careful not to wake Sally. He isn't the only one who has been 'working' too much lately: between College and her shifts at the candy store, Sally never has a moment to herself anymore. Her days off, few and far between as they are, are completely dedicated to Percy, and while Poseidon knows she loves doing things with their child, he also thinks she deserves a bit of down time. Percy can be a handful.

"Now, how about you put on your suit so we can go swimming? Can you do that on your own?"

"Yeah!" Percy yells in delight.

Poseidon hurriedly presses a finger to his lips. "Without waking mom, okay?"

The child gives him a wide-eyed look and just nods. Poseidon lets him climb down from his arms and watches him scamper to his room, where he proceeds to open all his drawers as noisily as possible, happily chattering to himself the whole time.

He shakes his head, smiling fondly. An incorrigible kid, but Poseidon finds he can't get angry with him. He should be used to it by now.

Poseidon ends up spending the whole day with his child while Sally rests.

They swim lazily until late morning, surrounded by schools of multi-coloured fish that seem to adore Percy far more than they do him, the little ingrates ( _no, Sally, I'm not jealous! I'm their God and I deserve respect!_ ).

Around lunchtime, he's forced to build a sand castle to forestall a tantrum of epic proportions. He does, trying not to feel insulted by Sally's laughter and ignoring the talltale clicks of a camera immortalizing his humiliation for all of eternity ( _I'm a God,_ he repeats to her in a whisper some time later as Percy does his best to bury him in sand, _I deserve respect, damn it!_ ).

Just before sundown, he takes his tired but smiling child out for a last swim where the water is deeper ( _The kid is immune to drowning, Sally! Stop worrying!)_.

As he floats on the water, staring at the sinking sun and listening to Percy's heartbeat as the child lays half on his chest, Poseidon is surprised to realize that he's far more relaxed than he ever remembers being.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** I'm surprised at myself. I was rather fast this time, wasn't I? Anyway, this is a short one, with a bit of fluff and a bit of angst. Hope you guys like it. Let me know what you think if you have the time!

 **Disclaimer:** still own absolutely nothing!

 **Father**

Holding Perseus in his arms for the first time causes a peculiar sensation in his chest, one he has a difficult time describing.

Poseidon has had many children in his long life. The immortal ones are still around, but so grown up and often living so far from him that he has trouble thinking of them as his children. For Triton, his eldest and heir, he has always been more a King and a general than a father (he doesn't know whether that's his fault or if Triton actually prefers it that way); Rhode treats him with a mixture of awe and fear, though he can't recall a single time he ever gave her a reason to be scared of him; and Kimopoleia…well, she hates him, but that's definitely his fault, no prizes for guessing that one.

There are others, but Poseidon rarely thinks about them.

Most of his demigods didn't live to adulthood, for one reason or another. Poseidon wasn't there when they were born and he wasn't there when they died. With some of them, he never even talked. He wonders if they missed him, if they ever wished to be held by a father, or if his distance was just an expected part of their hard life.

Now, centuries after most of them have passed, here he is, holding their newest brother, his youngest son, and all he can think about is: how could he have let it happen? How could he have missed all those opportunities?

There are children he'll never see smile, never hear laugh. Children whose first steps he missed and who never called him 'dad'. Children he never knew he loved and that never knew of his love.

It's too late for them, but he has been given one more chance.

He trails a finger down Perseus' smooth cheek. The baby sighs deeply in his sleep, his small nose scrunching up, and then he falls quiet again. Poseidon feels his heart crack and thump furiously at the same time.

He never knew Gods were allowed this kind of love, but now that he has it, he'll do everything in his power to keep it.

He'll be there for this child's first steps. He'll be there for his first word, his first smile, his first laugh. He'll be there to be called 'dad'.

For once in his life, he'll be a good father.

And maybe, just maybe, he won't ruin Perseus' life the way he did all his other children's.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** I'm on a roll. Or perhaps I've simply got too much time on my hands (which is actually a lie, because I should be studying for my exams). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, too! Let me know!

 **Disclaimer:** Sally is not mine. Poseidon is not mine. Percy is not mine. Nothing is mine.

 **/**

 **Till human voices wake us**

Sally wakes up at once, seemingly for no reason at all.

The apartment is silent but for the ticking of the clock in the living room. The storm that's been raging over New York for the past two days is finally dying down.

She lays on her soft bed, listening to the water slowly dripping down the fire escape. Somewhere not far from their apartment, two birds sing timidly to each other, as if scared to break the unexpected quiet after the violence of the storm.

Sally reaches out across the bed and her hand meets empty sheets, the residual warmth of a body still clinging stubbornly to them. She frowns and tries to remember whether Poseidon said anything about a late night engagement. Nothing comes to mind, but Gods are fairly unpredictable and so she doesn't worry.

She turns around, snuggling deeper into the covers. Soft light blinds her. She blinks foolishly at the window. The shutters are only half-closed and the early morning sun peeks in.

Suddenly the silence in the house is not all that reassuring anymore. It weighs heavily on her chest. It feels out of place, a harbinger of chaos in her otherwise peaceful existence.

Sally rolls over and blindly gropes around on her nightstand until her fingers meet the cold, rounded surface of her alarm clock. The blinking red numbers burn into her retina and it takes her a moment to decipher them.

06:58 a.m.

She throws off the covers, cursing, and swings to her feet lightly. If there is one thing she has learned in the two months since Percy was born, it's that there is no way in hell he'll sleep the whole night.

Why didn't he wake like usual?

She feels like throwing up as she hurries to his room. In the five seconds it takes her to cross the hall, her brain manages to conjure up all the worst-case scenarios. A monster sniffed Percy's scent despite his young age; another God found out about him and made quick work of the defenceless child; he just stopped breathing during the night and –

– and where the hell is Poseidon when they need him?

Her questions are answered and her fears soothed as soon as she steps into the nursery. She distantly wonders what's up with her. She was never this anxious before motherhood.

Percy isn't in his crib where she put him only four hours ago, but held securely in Poseidon's arms. The God sits in the rocking chair she got at a yard sale two weeks before Percy was born, the same chair he decreed to be an utter waste of space.

The baby is awake. His short legs kick at the air and his pudgy arms swing lightly above his head. He's cooing softly at something only he can see beyond the shadows of his still not fully developed eyesight.

But it's what Poseidon's doing that really takes her aback.

He's singing. The language is one she doesn't recognize, but it's soft and soothing and it sounds like a lullaby.

She's surprised by how good he's and by how enticing his voice sounds. She didn't even know he could sing until now, but suddenly all she wants to do is listen to him for the rest of her life.

There is the sea in his voice – the gentle breeze and the violent storms; the call of the seagulls near the shore and the whistles of the dolphins at open sea; the splash of the diving swimmers and the sloshing sound of the waves as they come and go…come and go…come…and…

Sally doesn't know how it happens. One moment, she is swaying on her feet, lulled by the motion of the waves; the next, she is sitting on the floor by Percy's crib.

The sudden silence in the room is broken only by her son's gentle breathing and by the pitter-patter of the rain on the window. The storm has picked up force again.

She looks up and meets Poseidon's amused gaze.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

Sally shakes her head in an attempt to dispel the fog ensnaring her brain. She glances at the door, unsure how she got there. She turns to Poseidon. "You were…" Singing. He was singing.

It hits her like a freight train.

Poseidon is the God of the Sea, the ruler of merpeople, and merpeople are known throughout the mythological world for their powerful and terrifyingly beautiful voices, able to lure incautious sailors to their death in one breath and save them from the fury of the ocean in the next.

"It was you," she whispers. She doesn't know why she feels like this – surprised and amazed, but also sort of betrayed. She has always been aware of Poseidon's true nature, after all.

He rubs Percy's green blanket, mussing it up. "I didn't mean to. I didn't think you'd wake up."

"What about Percy?" she asks, staring at her peacefully sleeping child. There doesn't seem to be anything different or _wrong_ with him, but her brain is replaying sections of her old mythology books about merfolk and she can't help but worry.

Poseidon tilts his head to the side. "He's immune, like every child of the Sea. It just calms him down." He looks at her curiously, as if he can't understand what's in front of his eyes. It happens, sometimes. Humans and their emotions can be as much a mystery to him as Gods are to her "Are you…angry?"

Sally shakes her head. She can't help but notice that he seems to be oddly satisfied, despite his almost apology.

"What is it, then?" she asks.

His laugh is low and full, and it sends tingles down her spine. Her hand closes around the soft material of her nightshirt.

"I was curious, I admit. For a moment, I thought you'd be able to… _see_ through this, too."

"Are you disappointed I couldn't?"

Poseidon gets up and carefully lays Percy back in his crib, humming under his breath the whole time. "There you go, baby." He tucks him in snugly and then he straightens up. He winks at her. "Nothing about you disappoints me, Sally."

She accepts the hand he offers, watching her smaller one disappear into his big, tan one. She trails a finger over a small scar on the underside of his palm as he helps her up. There is a fire in her belly she can't seem to quench. "I'm not sleepy anymore," she says.

Poseidon's grin is shark-like as she leads him back to their bedroom. "I thought as much."

/

"I have seen them riding seaward on the waves  
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back  
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea  
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown  
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."  
― T.S. Eliot, The Love Songs of J. Alfred Prufock


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** I'm sorry. About my lateness and about this chapter. You'll see what I mean. Hope you like it anyway!

 **Thank you to all my followers!**

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, unfortunately.

 **/**

 **Picture of Us**

There is a picture he always keeps on himself.

It's of the three of them, sitting on a wooden dock in Montauk, his and Sally's feet dipping in the cool water below. Back then, Percy was still too short to do the same, something that used to aggravate him to no end.

The thought still brings a smile to Poseidon's face, despite the ache in his chest.

Most days, it sits undisturbed in his shirt pocket, but sometimes, when things get especially tough, he takes it out, if only to remind himself what happiness looks like.

One of Sally's mortal friends took it. Poseidon doesn't remember who; in fact, he has a hard time remembering their faces or even their names. It doesn't matter.

He only cares about the two people smiling at him from the glossy surface of the picture.

Sally's long brown hair flies in front of her face and she holds up a hand to keep it down. The sun reflecting on the sea makes her blue eyes sparkle and she has that same bright, untameable grin on her face that accompanied her to the end of her days.

One of her arms is around Percy's shoulders. He sits between the two of them, still looking slightly discombobulated from his first summer at Camp and his first quest. Back then, Poseidon idealistically hoped it would be his last, too. Things went a bit differently, but he doesn't mind. Percy didn't, either, or at least that's what he likes to think.

While Sally looks straight at him, Percy and the Poseidon in the picture stare at each other. They are both smiling and there is a soft curve to his lips that Poseidon didn't think he was able to produce. He certainly isn't anymore – he never looks at anyone else quite so tenderly.

He has lived a long life. After a while, memories tend to get mixed up. Events easily lose themselves in the labyrinth of a mind that spans millennia. He has seen empires rise and fall, countless people die for something that, to him, lasted barely longer than their short life. He used to think their battles were meaningless; that their sacrifice was an act of stupidity and their existence little more than dust in the wind.

Not anymore. Not since Percy and Sally. Isn't it ironic that two of those short-lived people taught him the value of time? Oh, how easily it slipped through his fingers just when he needed more of it.

Every memory of his family stands out sharply in his mind – from the first time Sally spoke to him, to Percy's last smile. And in between those two events, his life with them stretches pathetically short.

He remembers that day, too. Percy was still angry with them – angry that they hadn't told him the truth and that their lies had almost cost both him and his mother their life – but he mellowed a bit when they got to Montauk and Sally convinced him to take a picture, just the three of them.

Percy leaned into him just as the click of the camera went off, smiling, and that was when Poseidon realized he was forgiven, after all.

It's still one of the happiest days of his life.

That's what he thinks about when their absence gets so heavy he fears it will crush him. That day on the beach, Percy's smile, Sally's laugh, the way his son fell asleep against his shoulder that same evening…

Love leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth and in his heart, but it's still the best thing he has ever felt.

/

Somewhere in the whole wide world, two souls smile without knowing why as the salty scent of the sea blows through their open windows.

Love always finds a way.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** I'm back! I honestly have no valid excuse for my lateness beyond a simple 'real life'. I hope you guys will understand and will keep reading my stories. I'll leave you to the chapter! Let me know what you think about it, if you want.

 **Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine!

 **/**

 **The Inherent Dangers of Aquariums**

"Will you get that?"

It takes Poseidon a moment to react to her request. He raises his eyes from the document – _'It's a report, Sally. You think it's easy being the God of the Sea?' –_ he's reading, glances first at the ringing phone and then at her, eyebrow arched.

Sally sighs, because she knows all too well what that look means. "Technology is not going to murder you, Poseidon." _Nor is actually doing something useful every once in a while_ , she adds uncharitably in her mind. She knows she's not being fair, but she's tired and _exasperated_ by life in general. One of her colleagues at the candy shop left without notice and Sally now has to cover all her shifts until her boss finds a substitute – something she doesn't seem in a hurry to do. As if that wasn't enough, she also has three essays to write, all due next week. Poseidon isn't helping her any by refusing to do a simple chore. "Just do it, please."

He rolls his eyes, but gets up all the same. Sally is pleasantly surprised he does so without the usual fuss about modern technology and she goes back to her essay with a smile on her face. Of course, that's when he has to prove her wrong, because he can't stand to let someone else have the last word.

"I hope you know this is a waste of time for the both of us," he complains, hand already outstretched to grab the phone, "it's probably one of your extremely likeable and not at all obnoxious friends."

He answers the call before she can retort and she has to settle for glaring at him over the edge of her laptop. He's probably right – not that it's much of a stretch: her friends and her boss are the only ones who call her and no one calls Poseidon, for obvious reasons – but she's still hoping she won't have to leave her essay half-finished. Gods know a simple conversation with Eric or Noemi can take up a whole day, especially now that they're about to have a baby. It makes Sally wonder: was she that needy of reassurances back when she was pregnant with Percy? She hopes not.

It's only after a few minutes of relentless typing that she realizes the phone conversation isn't giving any sign of drawing to a close and that Poseidon has made no move to pass the phone to her.

She sets her laptop aside, frowning, and gives Poseidon a questioning look.

He shrugs, bringing a finger to his lips. There is an amused smile on his face.

"Of course," he says, "I understand perfectly." He hums, nodding along with whatever the person on the other side of the line is saying. "It's absolutely _outrageous_."

Sally's eyebrows rise: that's too much sarcasm even for Poseidon.

"How many sharks did you say were there?"

The hair on Sally's arms stand on end and her heart rate picks up. She has an inkling where this is going and she doesn't like it one bit.

"Well, I would expect you to know, considering –" He moves the phone away from his ear and stares at it amusedly. Sally can hear a feminine voice loudly yelling from the other side. Poseidon's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. "Of course I do not find it funny," he lies as soon as the phone is once again pressed to his ear, "That would be exceedingly immature. Yes, we'll be there to pick him up soon."

Sally closes her eyes, breathing in deeply. _Percy_. It's obvious from Poseidon's relaxed stance that whatever happened is not serious enough to warrant their worry, but she can't help it. She knows how accident-prone her son is. 

"I'd wish you a good day, but I can tell that's not likely to happen. Goodbye."

He hangs up. There is a moment of silence during which Sally wonders just how much Percy's teacher hates Poseidon right now and then the God in question cracks up.

"Holy me," he says between one breath and the other as he staggers back to the couch, "What a little beast..."

"What's so funny?" Sally hisses. She is one bad news away from tearing her hair out of her head. "What happened? Is Percy –?"

"And you had the audacity to tell me not to call him 'demon-child' –" is Poseidon's non-answer, "– his teacher seemed to think he is an irksome pest, too. In fact, I believe she called him a 'manipulative brat' and a 'devil-child'." He frowns. "It didn't sound as though she thought it was a good thing."

Sally snaps her mouth shut before her jaw can reach the floor. " _Poseidon!_ " she forces out between clenched teeth.

Poseidon looks at her as if he can't understand what's got her so uptight. "What? Oh, he's okay," he reassures her, "Probably expelled _again_ , but okay."

She runs a hand through her hair. Figures. "Damn it. I had hoped…well, it doesn't matter. What happened?" she asks again. "Are you sure he isn't hurt?"

"No one's hurt, Sally," he says long-sufferingly, looking far more like his usual composed self, "There was just a _small_ accident at the aquarium. Serves them right," he adds in a snarky tone, "it's shameful the way they treat those poor animals. Tell me again – why did we allow him to go?"

Sally sighs deeply, pulling closer the pair of shoes she discarded less than an hour earlier.

She has no answer to give.

She _knows_ allowing Percy to go was a bad idea, but he looked so hopeful when he asked that she didn't have the heart to tell him no. Judging from Poseidon's grouchy behaviour as of late – well, grouchier than usual, anyway – Percy's big, pleading eyes and pouty expression worked their magic on him too, stamping out any objections he might had.

She's sure the god regrets it now.

"You know, in the old days," he grumbles in his patented 'I'm older than you and I know best' voice, "I'd have cursed them and their city and their families and even their _pets_ for much less."

"I'm sure it's not that –"

He cuts her off. "I might even have asked for their children to be sacrificed."

They stare at each-other, Poseidon with the expression of someone fondly remembering the good times gone by, back when he could ask for a beautiful maiden to be chained to a rock over the sea and expect it to happen for real, and Sally contemplating what to throw at him. Her shoe or her laptop?

"Only the hot ones, you know," he goes on, smiling blissfully, "There was no way I could have sex with –"

She throws the shoe. Far less expensive.

"Sally!" he complains, rubbing his shoulder. He gapes at her, looking mortally offended. "In the old days, I'd have –"

"Turned me into a crab. Yeah, yeah," she unconcernedly waves the 'threat' away. Poseidon glares at her. "If you could stop talking like my grandfather and tell me what exactly Percy did, that would be appreciated."

"Like your –?!" Poseidon closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. His jaw clenches. "I swear, Sally, sometime you make me wonder how I can possibly survive in this modern world." She rolls her eyes. "Percy…pulled the wrong lever –" He smiles again, but this time it's one of his sharp, dangerous grins (the ones Sally will never admit send tingles down her spine), "– and dumped his entire class into the shark poll."

Sally throws her head back against the couch with a groan. Sometimes, she really hates her life.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** First of all, thank you to those of you who favorited, followed or reviewed this story! This chapter is short and rather silly. Hope you enjoy all the same!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

 **/**

 **Pink**

"No. Absolutely not."

Sally lifts her chin stubbornly. "Why not?"

"Because."

" _Because_ is not a valid answer unless you're three years old. Are you three years old?"

Poseidon ignores the implied insult. "It is a valid answer for a God."

"Oh, you don't get to pull that card with me." She waves the tiny, pink socks in his face. "Tell me why we shouldn't buy these? They're adorable and Baby likes them," she looks down at her slightly rounded belly, "don't you, Baby?"

Poseidon has the audacity to look exasperated, the asshole. "Baby doesn't even have a mouth or ears. And I can't believe I'm calling it _Baby_."

"How else would you call it? We haven't chosen a name yet," Sally points out logically, "but I still want to know why you don't like pink. And I swear, if it is some shit about how it's feminine and thus weak, I _will_ punch you in the face, God or not."

She's not stupid: she knows being born something like four thousand years ago is bound to have left lasting damage on his mentality.

But Poseidon rolls his eyes. "Trust me, I do not, in any way, link femininity to weakness. This has nothing to do with gender. I don't care if the baby is a girl, a boy or a horse: they're not wearing pink."

Sally is suddenly seized by a previously unknown fear. "Baby could be a _horse_?!" she whispers-shouts, mindful of the other clients browsing around the shop.

Poseidon looks at her as if she has gone crazy. She doesn't get why, honestly. She has read enough Greek Mythology – or history – to know that giving birth to a half-animal half-human offspring is not out of the realm of possibilities. And Poseidon _did_ create horses.

"It was an exaggeration, Sally. Baby – _the_ baby is going to be human. Or half-human half-god, anyway."

"Okay, okay," Sally gives up, "just forget it." She raises the socks in front of his startled eyes. "We're buying them unless you can give me a valid reason not to."

He sighs. "It's just…pink is another God's chosen colour."

"Oh," she frowns, trying to work out whether she's willing to consider that a valid reason or not, "You mean Aphro–"

Poseidon gently places two fingers over her lips. "Don't say it. Names –"

"– have power," she finishes for him, "Right. Sorry." She kisses his palm. "Then what colour would you like?"

"Well –" he holds up a finger "–not yellow because…the sun. Not black, obviously."

As if, she thought.

"Absolutely not grey. That's _her_ colour –"

"I don't think they come in grey," she mutters, staring mournfully at the pink socks. Nah, it's not a valid reason, she decides. Since when do Greek Gods have _chosen colours_ , anyway?

"–not red, not orange, not purple – I hate purple – not white, not –"

He goes on like that for a few minutes, but Sally tunes him out. In the end, she's left with exactly two colours.

"Green and blue. That's it? You want Baby's wardrobe to be completely green and blue." She frowns. "Isn't blue, you know, your brother's colour?"

Poseidon grimaces. "We share," he admits in a 'the things I have to do' sort of tone.

Sally just stares at him, half-incredulous half-amused. Their quiet afternoon of shopping has certainly taken an unexpected turn.

"Listen, Poseidon," she starts, only to be interrupted by the saleslady.

"Have you chosen, dears?" she asks, her smile quite obviously fixed.

Sally knows she has been glancing at them disapprovingly the whole time they've been in the shop: she's sort of getting used to it. You've got to when you're eighteen and pregnant.

Poseidon, on the other hand, looks about to deliver some old-fashioned divine punishment on the spot.

Well, what she's about to say is bound to distract him from his murderous intentions.

She turns to the older woman with a wicked grin on her face. Poseidon, who knows her well enough to suspect she's plotting something, narrows his eyes.

"We're taking every colour, _dear_ ," her grin turns downright evil, "but green and blue."

Poseidon doesn't speak to her for the rest of the day.


End file.
